


Promises & Peonies

by BKC_BAM



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Gen, HP: EWE, Post-War, St Mungo's Hospital
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-25
Updated: 2016-07-25
Packaged: 2018-07-26 18:07:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 722
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7584580
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BKC_BAM/pseuds/BKC_BAM
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He was like clockwork and every evening she would watch him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Promises & Peonies

He was like clockwork.

Every day, five o'clock on the dot, the fireplace on the far end of the lobby would light up in a burst of green flames and out he would step, not a hair out of place. He'd dust the few ashes off his jacket, readjust the bouquet in his arms, give a court nod to the security guard as he buzzed him into the protected ward and disappear behind the heavy, steel door.

And every evening she would watch him.

It all started a few months ago. She'd noticed his blonde locks out of the corner of her eye as she assisted a patient in a wheelchair. She'd hidden herself the best she could, not looking for a confrontation with him but she had appeared to go unnoticed.

And every evening since then, he would repeat the same routine.

After a few weeks of watching him, she noticed the beautiful flowers that accompanied him. Always in bloom, never a dull color, they were the loveliest peonies she had ever laid eyes on. They had to be magical, of that she was sure. She knew at least in the muggle world, it was rare and expensive to have peonies of such grander year round. She knew they still had money left after the war, but to purchase flowers such as those seemed a bit over the top. But to be fair, she knew nothing about the person he was.

And every evening, she would wonder what he was doing with those incredible flowers.

It began innocently enough. She'd done some poking around in files, lingering to catch conversations between mediwitches, hoping to hear some gossip. The stories of him were far and few between. She'd overheard the patient he was visiting was in the security ward for their own protection from other wizards. She began to find herself lingering in the lobby around the time he would arrive.

And every evening she would ask herself, what am I doing?

She knew she couldn't help it. It was beyond her control. She was a naturally curious human being. Her questions would soon be answered though, as she had been moved to the high security ward one evening. She'd proven herself to be trust worthy and unbiased, a requirement for the safety of the patients trapped inside. She'd taken her time starting her shift, waiting for the first time until the clock struck five before she clocked on to the floor. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed the security guard give his normal court nod and the door slid open.

And every evening after this, she would know why Draco came.

He walked right by her, eyes straight ahead. Had he noticed her? She couldn't determine. She made a quick note as to which room he entered, and went about her evening duties, tending to room after room. Just as she was to finally enter the room he'd disappeared to, an alarm sounded. Mediwizards were quick to usher her aside and head in. The patient was having trouble breathing. From her place near the door, the blonde hair was unmistakable. She was thin, much thinner then she remembered. Her skin appeared even paler then it used to be. The sound coming from her body was nothing like what it once had been. The monitor showing heartbeat began to slow before the inevitable long beep was all that could be heard. The machine was flipped off as the noise had proven too much for Draco, hands over his ears, tears streaming down his face. Slowly, the mediwizards exited, leaving her standing alone in the door way. His eyes looked up to her and she froze. He did not bother to fix his appearance or make any gesture for her to leave. Instead he held out the flowers in his arms. He had not yet had a chance to set them in the vase by the window. Slowly she moved forward, carefully grabbing the peonies she had admired for months now. His hand was still extended. Not knowing what to do, she placed her warm hand in his icy one, giving a small squeeze as a promise.

And every evening after, Hermione would ask herself why she cared that day and why he gave her hand a small squeeze back.


End file.
